I Do Not Like Green Eggs and Ham
by RuthYourFace
Summary: Sam struggles with financial problems within his family, friendship and most prominently his body image. And there's only so much that Kurt can do to help…
1. Thank God For The Aircon

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, or glee.**

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><p>"Seven."<p>

"You'll be here?"

"I'll be waiting!"

"I miss you too!"

"Kurt, you're running up the phone bill, you've been on that thing for almost two hours now," Burt said, cracking open another can of beer.

"Yeah, okay dad," Kurt mumbled not really listening, "Oh no that was just my dad; really? I disagree; I don't think it was too dragged out in fact-"

"Kurt, come on keep it down, I'm watching the game," Burt complained.

"Oh! So is Sam; No I was just telling dad how-"

"Kurt, can you take that upstairs?" Burt asked.

"No. I can't," Kurt said bluntly, "And it's your own fault for not getting a portable phone, I'm pretty sure this wire wont stretch very far." Burt raised an eyebrow.

"Sam, I have to go," he said, "Love you too; _seven_; Okay, bye." He put down the phone. Kurt ambled up the stairs and stopped to let the rushing Finn past.

"Where-"

"I'm late for my date with Rachel," He said quickly. Feeling happier that since Finn was going out with Rachel and Carole and his dad were away for the weekend he would have a free house to share with Sam, he almost skipped into his room. He closed the door behind him and flopped on his bed. He gripped onto the wood at the other side and pulled himself on his stomach so that he was leaning over the other side. He looked under the bed and reached for a thick book he had been planning to read. Laying back he opened it up and smiled as the feather he and Sam found in the park one day that he used to mark his page fell onto his lap.

"My Sammy," He muttered before getting into his reading.

"My Kurtsie," Sam said, putting his phone in his pocket.

"_My _Kurtsie," Stacey argued sleepily from under the duvet.

Sam chuckled. Stacey loved Kurt. He locked himself in the bathroom and decided to shower. He draped a towel over the mirror and turned to undress. He slipped into the steaming shower and drew the curtain. He washed quickly and pulled his clothes on over his still damp body without even glancing down. The clothes in the corner of the room caught his eye. His parents were busy job hunting so the chores were down to him. He bent down and let the hot water run in the bath. He poured in some detergent and dropped in a basket full of his family's dirty laundry. They were left to steep for the night. Sam was careful to be quiet as he tiptoed into the motel room again as not to wake Stevie or Stacey. And hour of lolling around and thumb twiddling later his mum walked through the door. She looked worn out and tired. Obviously there had been no luck that day.

"Is it okay if I go to Kurt's tonight?" He asked her.

She sighed and rubbed her temples.

"Yeah. Sure. That's fine hunny," She said.

He gave her a grateful smile and hugged her before slipping out the door and making his way to Kurt's. The air was crisp and the sky was glowing orange-pink. There weren't many people out at that time on that side of town. Sam took this opportunity. He jogged into a full blown sprint. He was running for a long time now and he could feel his chest tightening. He was getting a pain in his side but he couldn't stop. His cheeks were flushed when he reached the Humme-Hudsen household. He bent over clutching his stomach. The sound of the front door opening caused him to whip up and straighten out.

"Sam!" Kurt smiled. He hopped down the steps, striding towards him. Kurt lifted Sam's mood. He caught him in his open arms when they met. Kurt smelled vaguely of home baking which made Sam's brow furrow and his knees shake.

"C'mon in," Kurt said, taking his hand. Sam got a warm waft of air when he entered the house. Yep, definitely home baking.

Kurt gestured for him to sit down.

"Hang on just a sec," He said, sidling into the kitchen. Sam was panicking. That smell. He reached over to his wrist and began to snap the elastic band that he never took off. Kurt thought it was just for luck that Sam wore it. Sam would never tell what he really needed it for. Suddenly a plate of cookies balanced on Kurt's palm appeared in the doorway, followed by him.

"You baked," Sam said, clenching his fist.

"I did," He stated, "And they're double chocolate and gooey on the inside, 'cause I know that's how you like them. Well, come on, take one." Kurt smiled sitting down beside him and holding the plate out for Sam. What could he do? Kurt made them especially for him. It would hurt his feelings if he said no, and that's the one thing he would never let him be the cause of, Kurt hurting. He relished Kurt's smile and took a cookie. Kurt took one too. Sam couldn't help gawk as Kurt took a bite and chewed. Anything to do with his mouth entranced him. Kurt looked at Sam expectantly, waiting for him to eat it. Sam's eyes flickered between the cookie and him. He sunk his teeth into it and took a large bite. He chewed but the cookie seemed to multiply and become heavy. He struggled to chew and forced it down his throat.

"Mm, that's real good, babe," He told Kurt. His heart stuttered when he saw his face light up. He grinned, leaned over and planted a kiss on his lips. Kurt switched on some movie and they cuddled up to watch it, however Sam needed to 'use the bathroom' barely into it. He thanked god for Kurt's loud bathroom air-con. Kurt noticed his pasty skin when he returned.

"Are you okay, Sam?" He said nervously, pressing his hand to Sam's forehead to check his temperature.

"Of course," he said, taking Kurt's hand from his forehead and holding it in his own. Once Kurt was absorbed in the movie he began to fiddle with the brunettes fingertips as he often did, a habit that Kurt didn't object to. He liked to run his finger slowly up and down each bone on the back and trace his palm lines. Kurt shuddered a bit when he did that. Kurt curled into his chest and wrapped an arm around his stomach. Sam sucked his stomach in a little and put an arm around him.

He was conscious of Kurt's delicate hand on what he perceived as nothing less than grotesque flab. He still couldn't understand why Kurt chose him; he could have anyone he wanted. Kurt was letting out soft snores by the time the movie ended. It made Sam laugh, he was so cute. He watched him sleep for a while. Then Kurt mumbled something unintelligible.

"Sam," He said then, in a hoarse whisper.

"Yes? Kurt? I'm here," He said, stroking a hand across Kurts hair.

"No, I don't want fries with that," He mumbled. He was talking in his sleep. Sam chuckled softly.

"I love you, Sam," He said.

"I love you too, baby," Sam said to the sleeping boy.


	2. The Man In The Mirror

Disclaimer: I dont own glee or any of the characters featured.

Sam didn't sleep much that night. When he did it was half hour snippets of dreams that he wasn't sure being conscious for the next day was worth. He could only imagine his true love dying so many times. When he woke from the last one he could bare he pulled Kurt into his hot chest, wrapping a sturdy arm around the smaller boy, as if to protect him. Kurt stirred and slid closer into him, his shirt sliding up a little in the process. Sam sucked in a breath. He marvelled Kurt's stomach, getting butterflies in the pool of his stomach. He brushed his perfect flat and toned stomach with his fingertips, outlining the delicate crease where his body was curling. He lightly scraped his hip bone, his heart racing as he watched the small area flush red and then return to Kurt's pale porcelain colour. He planted soft kisses along his collar bone.

"Beautiful," He murmured against the brunette's cool skin. At some point in the early morning, the exhaustion must have become too much for Sam's brain because he dozed off.

The sound of the noisy water tank in Kurt's house woke him. He stretched and sat up, kneading his eye with the heel of his hand. Someone was in the shower because he could feel the pipes beneath his feet under the soft carpet of Kurt's floor. Standing, the earth seemed to stretch in odd ways, the tidy bedroom contorted. Sam blinked. His vision was fuzzy and he could swear that the ground was moving. He pulled on his clothes and stumbled out on to the landing. His knuckles could have burst through his skin with his tight grip on the bannister. Only after standing for about ten minutes with his eyes squeezed shut did the world around him take its usual form.

Just then the shower stopped and he could hear fumbling before the door opened and a dripping wet Kurt appeared with a towelling robe hanging open, rubbing his hair with a towel. He closed up his robe when he saw Sam and smiled as he approached him. Sam had to close his mouth. Although his glance was quick, it was enough to send him weak at the knees again.

"K-Kurt," He said, grinning. Kurt blushed.

"Sorry, I thought you were sleeping," He apologised.

"Sorry?" Sam said in disbelief. Kurt laughed.

"I'm making pancakes, the bathroom's free. Well, obviously, we're the only ones here – but anyway," Kurt said.

"Kay, thanks," Sam said, stealing a kiss his kiss was soft and minty from his morning brush. Kurt draped his towel on the bannister to dry and Sam got a glance of his bare leg as he let the robe slip to the floor on entering the bedroom. Sam slid into the bathroom and locked the door behind him as he always did, even though it was only Kurt here. He still didn't want him to walk in when his fat was on show. Full wall length mirrors covered one wall, which Sam could never avoid and learned to deal with. He cupped the side of his face, pressing his index finger too hard into his temple as he shuffled across the room to the shower. After washing and brushing his teeth with the spare brush that Kurt kept for him since it was practically his second home anyway he stood under the piping hot water for a while, simply because he was comfortable, which was a strange thing. Comfort. Then a thought occurred to him. A fact he remembered from biology. The body burns fat just by heating itself up. His insides clenched and he reached out to the dial in front of him. He had a horrible feeling that even the coldest setting wasn't enough. Kurt noticed the bags under his eyes and how he dragged his feet into the kitchen.

"You okay, Sam?" He asked, pouring coffee

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why wouldn't i be?" He said, nervously taking a seat.

"You don't look so good," He said ladling pancakes onto a plate. The smell was gorgeous. Golden butter melted dripping down the sides. Sam imagined himself leaping on top of the table and shoving it all into his mouth.

"Jee, thanks," He joked, snapping the band. Kurt slid the plate over to him.

"Eat," He ordered, not taking his eyes away from the blonde.

"But Kurt I-"

"Sam, I'm worried about you. Like seriously worried about you," He said. Sam flinched. He didn't want to stress Kurt.

"I'm sorry. Your pancakes are always awesome – I just don't feel so good," Sam burgled, getting up, "I think I'm going to go – get some rest, you know?"

Kurt was still and then simply nodded. Sam couldn't look at his shocked face, he had to get out of there quickly. He ran home, as usual and sighed longingly as he passed the gym, remembering when he could afford a membership. The guys loved him there. He was fitter – not fit enough – but still fitter. He imagines how many calories he could burn if he was in there right now, lifting weights. Household items, though there were very little of them, substituted the dumbbells he was forced to sell.

The pavement shifted beneath his feet and he stumbled. What had just happened? Why did the world keep spinning? He ran on, ignoring the pain stretching across his abdomen. He should stop now. Stop and sit down. Call Kurt and arrange to take him out for ice-cream, meet friends, read comic books, sleep, eat - live. Sam waited until his family was asleep to wake up. The groaning his stomach had been making wouldn't subside as it usually managed to. No amount of curling or water would help him this time. Then he must have been doing something right. Or wrong. He got up, his pull-out bed squawking in the still night made his parents stir. Padding silently around the bed he locked himself in the bathroom. The light was noisy, but not loud enough to wake anyone. Sam hated this time. When he had to do this. Sometimes he loved it – in fact a lot of the time he loved it. It was like his reward. One that lasted less than five minutes before he had to step off the scales and continue throughout his life. The life he believed was wasted on him.

He opened the press and pulled out the scales he managed to hide from his family. The one possession he couldn't bring himself to sell. He was so particular about this part, making sure that the surface was level that the hand was right on the zero, not a millimetre after or before. These scales which he was a slave to could so easily lie to him. He squeezed his eyes shut and stepped on not daring to open them until it was silent again, a side from the buzz that electricity opened them and looked down.

No.

No, no, no. Sam's pulse was racing, but not in the good way that it did sometimes when Kurt was with him. His vision was spotted. This couldn't be happening to him. The hand had somehow twitched less than a half a millimetre over what his weight was the previous night. What did he do wrong? Why did these things have to happen to him?

He refused to believe it, he made sure that his feet were in the centre of the scales, but the hand lay unmoving. He pulled his shirt off over his head and through it to the other end of the room, but the scale lay unmoving. He rapidly pulled off all his clothes, hyperventilating, so he was completely naked, but it didn't change. "No, please," He gasped, eyes welling. He thought he was losing weight – he was working hard. What would happen if even worse, he started gaining? He shot his hand over to the sink and grabbed a pair of scissors. She clenched his fist in a bundle of his hair and started chopping at it, hoping that the more blonde locks that hit the floor the further down the scale would go but it didn't. He glanced up at the mirror.

He had always been vulnerable. He was so sensitive and such a pushover. People always took advantage of him and broke him and used him. He could handle being vulnerable to people, somehow he managed to hide from it all.

But he couldn't hide from himself.

The boy in the mirror was fat. His hair was short and choppy, no longer bleached but mousey. His face was grey and sweaty, his cheeks stained with salty tears. His lower lip was pink and the skin was broken from him biting it. His mouth was too big. His stomach was huge and disgusting. His thighs where freakishly stretched and he looked broken.

The boy in the mirror was not Sam. The boy in the mirror was who Sam believed he was.


End file.
